


Vulnerable Pulse

by bioticbootyshaker



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Cute, Fluffy, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Romance, Sweet, Tender - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 15:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticbootyshaker/pseuds/bioticbootyshaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrus tries to get Shepard into bed.<br/>It's easier than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vulnerable Pulse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spader7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spader7/gifts).



> A commission for [spader7](archiveofourown.org/users/spader7). <3
> 
> Warning: Fluff levels are at maximum, read only if you want warmth in your chest and a smile on your face. :)

“Really? You’re not in the middle of calibrations? Are you celebrating some kind of Turian holiday I’ve never heard of?”

It was damn difficult to know when a Turian was smiling, especially when that Turian had taken a rocket to half of his face, but Shepard thought he caught a smile at Garrus’ lips... mandibles... whatever they were. 

“Taking a break,” Garrus said, “It’s been known to happen, Shepard. Maybe I’m trying to set a good example. Word is you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Plenty of time to sleep when I’m dead,” Shepard murmured, taking a seat beside Garrus and resting his back against the wall. “Trust me, I was dead for two years, and I woke up feeling so refreshed. I highly recommend it.”

“Thanks, but I’m sleeping well enough,” Garrus chuckled, “Besides, you need more beauty sleep than I do. Always have.”

Normally, Shepard would have laughed at the gentle ribbing, maybe come back with an insult or two of his own, but Shepard was worn down, and the most he could muster was a small, tired smile. He closed his eyes and kept his head tipped back against the wall. There weren’t many people Shepard would let himself relax around, least of all expose the vulnerable line of his throat to, but Garrus Vakarian was someone pretty special. 

Vakarian and Shepard. How long had it been that way? Garrus had never been fond of counting the months and years, of putting the time he had spent with Shepard under a microscope. Sometimes it felt like an eternity since he had met Shepard, and sometimes it felt like only a handful of minutes, only a short while since he had looked into Shepard’s eyes for the first time and said ‘ _yeah, let’s kick some ass together_.’

There had to be an end for them. A _good_ end. Having the Reapers exterminate them wasn’t Garrus idea of a fitting way to go out. He and Shepard needed something grand and heroic, something that saw them together on the other side -- if not as living heroes, then at least as legends. Saviors, maybe. Garrus had always enjoyed the fanfare a little more than Shepard, even if he’d never admit it. Hell, he didn’t want much; a few beers and credits and Garrus was set.

“Come on, Shepard,” Garrus said, “You know you want to talk to me. Doubt you came down here for the ambience.”

The battery wasn’t the most relaxing place on the Normandy. If Shepard wanted a place with atmosphere, there was a lounge. He’d come to talk, or he’d come for a place where he could rest without everyone demanding something from him.

“You know me, Garrus,” Shepard murmured, “Sometimes I just can’t be without my sweetheart of a Turian.” His smile strengthened a bit, becoming something less tired and more genuine. “I ever tell you about that dream I had where you were still with C-Sec and I was the naughty smuggler you had tied up with rope in the interrogation room?”

“That’s terrible,” Garrus said, “I’d never use rope. Kind of painful, Shepard. Now, if I were going to do it, I’d use silk or something else. Humans bruise kind of easy.” 

“Silk, huh?” Shepard asked. Funny, he didn’t sound quite as irreverent as he had before. Even funnier, his hand was placed firmly on Garrus’ thigh. Not high, not firm, but there all the same. Shepard’s fingers twitched, or else he was massaging Garrus softly. Garrus wasn’t sure which he wanted to believe. “Sounds like some kind of Fornax issue or something.”

“Yeah,” Garrus agreed. He laughed, a little nervously -- well that was silly, why should he be nervous? -- and rested his fingers over Shepard’s. “Ten Ways To Drive Your Man Crazy: Special Bondage Issue.”

“Sounds about right,” Shepard chuckled.

Sometimes, Garrus figured, what Shepard needed wasn’t so much a soft place to land as a soft place to rest his head. They were dealing with extraordinary circumstances, with galactic war, with things too complex and too vitally important to even be talked about. What Shepard needed was simple, though, and something Garrus could understand. He leaned close to Shepard, resting his head against Shepard’s temple.

“Bed,” Garrus said.

Shepard was tired, worn down, overworked, overstressed, overexposed to the galaxy’s turmoil and struggle. What he needed was to lie down, to close his eyes, to rest, to have a friend sit close by and take care of him.

“Bed,” Shepard agreed.

****

He supposed it was a verb as much as it was a noun. Bed.

“It’s what you do,” Shepard laughed.

He was all rough lines and dark circles under his eyes and a jaw in need of shaving. Garrus undressed him and got him into bed, shrugging when Shepard muttered an apology. “That’s what friends are for,” Garrus said, “Well, one thing friends are for. Also for telling you you’re an idiot and you should have been in bed about ten years ago.”

Shepard laughed, a little weakly, and caught Garrus’ wrist when he went to leave. “Stay for a little while,” Shepard said. Garrus noticed just how blue his eyes were when he looked down into them. Probably the fish tank, making them glow like that. Honestly, the one man in the universe who didn’t need to be taking care of anything more complicated than a cactus had the biggest aquarium Garrus had ever seen. “Gonna be a lot of dead fish,” Garrus said. He offered no context, and Shepard demanded nothing from him. He was looking in Shepard’s eyes and getting a little lost. 

“I told you about that kid,” Shepard said, “Back on Earth. The one that---”

“Yeah,” Garrus said, “You told me. Time to let go, Shepard.”

“Can’t,” Shepard whispered, “I have these... dreams. I’m trying to get to him but he’s just... He gets away from me. I want to save him one time. Just once.”

He thought of telling Shepard a lot of people had died, and a lot more would. Or maybe that he couldn’t save everyone. Shepard knew all of that already, though. He was a tender-hearted man in a galaxy that demanded he be made of stone. Garrus wasn’t very sentimental about a lot of things, but when it came to Commander John Shepard, Garrus was too soft, too concerned, too attached.

“You’ll save the rest of them,” Garrus said, “We’ll get it done, Shepard.”

Shepard’s eyes closed. His breathing steadied. Garrus moved to leave, but Shepard’s fingers tightened over his wrist. “Stay with me,” Shepard whispered, tugging Garrus towards the bed, “Just a little while. Just, just until I fall asleep.”

When the most badass guy in the galaxy asked you to stay until he fell asleep, in a voice that was closer to a frightened child’s than a strong Commander, you stayed. 

“Right here,” Garrus said. He moved into the bed beside Shepard. He wasn’t sure how close he could get, how close he _should_ get, but apparently Shepard wanted him close. Shepard wanted the lines of their bodies to press together, he wanted it so there wasn’t any air or darkness between them. 

“I ever tell you the dream I had where you were the most important person... Turian... whatever... I ever met?” Shepard asked. His breath was warm against Garrus’ cheek. Garrus turned his face and let his breath be warm against Shepard’s throat, right over his vulnerable pulse. 

“No,” Garrus said, “You need to tell me about that one sometime, Shepard.”


End file.
